


How To Save A Life

by plutoexists



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bullying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutoexists/pseuds/plutoexists
Summary: Akaashi Keiji, like all humans, is selfish.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	How To Save A Life

During his first year of high school, his new-found friends had told him already- that Bokuto was a bit too much. When he mentioned he wanted to join the volleyball club they had warned him between laughs and giggles that Bokuto Koutarou, second year student, was in the volleyball club, too. _Man, I heard he’s hard to handle. Are you sure you want to join a club with a guy like that?_ Akaashi had wondered why would they know what Bokuto was like, they had barely been in high school for a month, they couldn’t know him well enough to judge. So Akaashi had shrugged upon the light-hearted warnings, said he liked volleyball and that it’d be okay.

He went to his first volleyball practice three days later, presented himself to his seniors with a polite smile while his hands fidgeted behind his back. Bokuto Koutarou, with his weirdly styled hair, seemed to be the only one to not pay attention. In fact, he missed all of the first years presentations, which resulted in him referring to Akaashi by the wrong name. It happened twice, and Bokuto’s seniors scolded him harshly. Bokuto’s bright attitude had deflated then, to a point where it affected his performance during practice and coach had told him to run laps until he remembered to hit spikes. After practice, in the locker room, Bokuto was scolded again.

After a week or so, his friends asked him how training with Bokuto was, since he supposedly was a Top Volleyball Player, and Akaashi had simple answered it was ‘strange’, not wanting to go into detail about Bokuto’s mood swings and how the scolding in the locker room seemed to have had become a habit. His friends only laughed.

Bokuto had yet to learn Akaashi’s name when Akaashi asked him to stay after practice so he could practice setting for Bokuto. Akaashi hadn’t to,d him it actually was because he felt somewhat bad after he had seen Bokuto benched during a practice game because his spikes had been off.

“Uh, Akane, right?” Bokuto had asked.

“It’s Akaashi.” Akaashi had answered simply, fidgeting behind his back. 

Bokuto had clicked his fingers then, “Right, Akashi! Of course. Well, anyway, I have stuff to do so I can’t stay, but thanks for offering.”

Bokuto had hurriedly left after he finished packing up, leaving Akaashi alone in the gym.

Akaashi did not give up, though, and a few days later and after asking his friends what class Bokuto was in, he went to see him during lunch. He politely knocked the classroom door and entered. He found Bokuto alone, scrubbing at what Akaashi thought was his desk, back turned to him. It was hot outside, so Akaashi supposed Bokuto’s classmates were having their lunch outside. He briefly wondered why Bokuto wasn’t with them.

He cleared his throat.

“Bokuto,” He called.

Bokuto’s movements halted as he jumped from the surprise. He turned his neck to Akaashi, eyes wide, and stood in a way his body would shield the desk behind him.

“Akashi? What are you doing here?” He squeaked and Akaashi reminded him how his name was pronounced before saying:

“I came to ask you to stay after today’s practice. I need to work on my sets.” There was a beat of silence and Akaashi added, “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I-I can’t! I’m sorry, but I, uh, have math homework and it takes me a lot of time to do it, so, yeah. I can’t go.”

Akaashi played with the hem of his school jersey. He had to insist. “I can help you with mathematics during the afternoon break so you can stay after practice. Please.”

“That’d be a waste of your break, though! Plus, you’re a year younger then me, I d-don’t think you can help me.”

With pursed lips, Akaashi took a small step forward. Bokuto leaned backwards further over his desk. It seemed he didn’t want Akaashi to look at what was there.

“I’m good at studying, I’m sure I can help you someway.”

Bokuto bit his lip he wanted to disagree, but gave in in the end. He told Akaashi that ‘okay, he’ll help him during lunch’, so him and Bokuto ate lunch together (his friends looked at him weird and everyone eyed Bokuto as he sat) and afterwards they went to the library to study. Like Bokuto had earlier pointed out, Akaashi didn’t know much about what Bokuto was doing in math class, but he gave him tips for studying and helped him solve a few problems that looked familiar to what he was doing in his class. Bokuto whined and shouted and cheered while he worked, and it was loud and childish, but Akaashi found he didn’t care. Bokuto seemed like a nice person, it made him wonder why classmates found him hard to handle.

In the afternoon after regular practice, he and Bokuto stayed in the gym until night came. Akaashi set for Bokuto and much to Akaashi’s satisfaction, his spikes’ consistency got deliberately better. Bokuto left in a great mood.

He and Bokuto started hanging out after that. Bokuto would go to Akaashi’s class and ask him if he wanted to have lunch with him, Akaashi would agree and then both of them would make plans to stay after practice (Akaashi’s classmates stopped talking to him, too, but he chose to ignore it). It became a routine and soon Akaashi grew accustomed to waiting for Bokuto to come ask him for lunch on daily basis, and so he found himself being surprised and slightly disappointed when Bokuto didn’t come for him that day.

 _He must have forgotten,_ Akashi thought. His friends had already left and he was alone in the classroom. _Maybe I should ask him today, for a change._

Taking a deep breath, Akaashi walked the hallways that led to Bokuto’s classroom and, after opening the door, found that it was empty. There was no one inside. He was about to leave when something caught his eye— a dirty desk next to the window. Curiously, Akaashi stepped into the classroom and made his way to the desk, regretting his decision as soon as he made it.

There was a hurtful pang in his chest as his throat closed up and his mouth went dry, eyes wide.

_Just die already. Can’t you see you are bothering everyone? What the fuck is up with you and your mood swings? We can’t stand you. You’re always so loud, it’s annoying._

Akaashi suddenly felt dizzy. Bokuto’s desk was filled with scribbles– old and new, all of them filled with threats and insults and things that made Akaashi weak in the knees. He was so focused on controlling his breathing Akaashi didn’t hear the sound of the door opening.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asked. It was quiet, unlike him. Akaashi turned to him, opened his mouth to speak but soon found he didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say?

“Bokuto-“

“You should leave.” It was a command. Bokuto sounded angry, looked angry— he was glaring and his hands were folded into fists (he was holding a wet cloth, Akaashi saw).

Akaashi called his name again, but Bokuto interrupted.

“I said, you should leave.”

Akaashi hurriedly left the classroom, and that was the last time Bokuto talked to him. He no longer grabbed lunch with him, no longer stayed after practice with him, no longer smiled at him when he hit his serves. Bokuto avoided him in a way that made it seem like there was no Bokuto Koutarou to begin with.

Akaashi’s classmates started talking to him again, then. _Man, what were you doing hanging out with him? You got us worried, you know?_ Akaashi ignored all of the nasty remarks about Bokuto and pretended it was nice having friends again. However, in the afternoon, Akaashi would leave his friends to clean Bokuto’s desk. Everyday he would grab a wet cloth and scrub at the wood of the desk until it was clean, until the pen scribbles faded away. Nobody knew he did what he did and so one time when his friends found him in Bokuto’s class, they laughed and teased him, saying:

“Man, who knew you had it in you to do this, too! Come on, show us what you’ve written in there!”

They grabbed Akaashi by the shoulder, dragged him to the desk, laughed when Akaashi said he hadn’t written anything and nudged him until he had. They gave him a blue inked pen, and Akaashi grabbed it with shaky hands. He pressed the back of his hand on the desk and twirled the pen once, twice, three times. His friends told him to hurry up, but Akaashi’s mind was blank.

He was scared. Scared that his friends would stop talking to him again, that his classmates would fill his own desk with words he couldn’t bare to look at without his heart thumping painfully.

Akaashi was selfish, too, so he wrote the word ‘annoying’ on the desk. His friends laughed.

Bokuto watched from behind the door with tears in his eyes and uncontrolled breathing. The apology note in his hand was crushed into nothing but a ball of paper.

After the small incident, Akaashi gained new friends (and Bokuto began skipping practice), Akaashi started being popular between his girl classmates, (and Bokuto began skipping class), and suddenly everyone wanted to talk to him, (Bokuto’s desk became a big puddle of ink with no one to clean it). Akaashi’s selfishness let him enjoy the praise he got from his volleyball seniors now that he was setting for them rather than Bokuto, and Akaashi selfishly found himself enjoying the weekends he could hang out with his friends.

But a month passed and Bokuto was nowhere to be seen and the guilt began eating Akaashi away until he was a pile of nerves and regret. He started biting his nails until they bled and he found himself having no appetite whatsoever. His anxiety ate away his muscles until he was nothing but skin and bones, and his friends stopped talking to him because his sudden weight lose was weird. He wasn’t performing well in volleyball, and got benched during most of their practice matches. His mother wouldn’t look at him now, and his father was disappointed at his poor grades.

 _This isn’t like you, Keiji,_ he had said, but all Akaashi could think of was Bokuto.

So he began asking for him, and he lost more friends. He lost his position as a setter in the volleyball team, and he lost his teacher’s approval. He, however, learned were Bokuto lived.

Akaashi skipped volleyball practice for the first time since he had joined the team and ran to Bokuto’s house as fast as he could, tripping over his own feet and school bag hitting his back with every step he took.

Upon the 10nth knock, Bokuto opened the door to his house and immediately slammed it close.

“Bokuto!” Akaashi shouted, still panting, and once again selfishly rejoiced in knowing Bokuto was alive. Tears fell down his cheeks and Akaashi wanted nothing but to hit himself.

  
“Bokuto, please open the door.” Speaking hurt.

“Bokuto is not home.”

“Please! Please, I’m begging you, I need to talk to you.” Breathing hurt. Akaashi hurt every second he stood before Bokuto’s door and the guilt he felt only grew. It hurt Akaashi that he was the one crying.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto, I’m so sorry.” He sobbed each word, and people on the street turned to look at him. “I’m selfish! I’m very selfish, Bokuto, and I hurt you because of it. And I’m also a coward, Bokuto, that’s why I wrote something in your desk too. I was scared I would end up alone, that nobody would speak to me again,”

Bokuto unlocked the door, barely opening it. Akaashi could only see the shadow of his body.

“But then, the thought of you not being with me scared me. I was scared you wouldn’t be here anymore, that you’d leave us,” Akaashi could barely talk between his sobbing and his tears blurred his vision. He didn’t know he had been kneeling until he pressed his forehead against the floor.

“I don’t want you to kill yourself!”

Bokuto opened the door and Akaashi looked up into honey eyes that no longer shone, into a frown that had always been a smile, a Bokuto who no longer dyed or spiked up his hair. Akaashi looked up and found a stranger, and it hurt in a way that left him breathless, because it wasn’t Bokuto who had opened the door, but Bokuto’s father.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, “But you’re too late.”

Akaashi never returned home.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this while grieving my dead grandfather. I know how it feels to never say goodbye to someone you love
> 
> im sorry if you didn’t like it. please scream at me in the comments 
> 
> im crying rn


End file.
